Paisley Jacket
by Frgtyou
Summary: Clare is trying to get over her break-up with Eli, during her spring-break, with the help of her mother: Helen Edwards."It was certainly not her day—Eli this, Eli that—the world seemed against her." ONE-SHOT.


**A/N: **The title barely has to do with the story. But, I listened to a song on the radio today, thought about a past "love", and my mom walked in. Seemed to click.** Read and review!**

**This is set during the Spring Break after DTW. EClare broke up, Clare is trying to get over it.**

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><p><strong><em>Paisley Jacket<em>**

It was a Saturday morning, but a lonely one as well. She looked out of her window and the sun seemed to be coming out. A part of her was upset—she wanted a rainy day to happen instead.

The need to stay at home, curl under her sheets, and sleep there the rest of the day sounded like the ideal plan. She wanted to close her eyes and do nothing.

The clock read ten in the morning and she desired to throw it against the wall. It angered her—everything did—and made her wonder what she had done the day before: another day went by doing absolutely nothing.

It's not what she wanted, school would begin once again in two days from then, and the thought of what would happen scared her.

"Clare, _Clare_!"

She heard her mother's shrill voice call her name from downstairs. She tried her best to not roll her eyes at her, but the movement was natural and following that, she walked out of her door, feeling her heart thump with each step she made.

"Mom?" Clare asked slowly.

Her mother was sitting at the kitchen table and had another plate of oatmeal set in front of her with a glass of milk. Clare sighed.

"_Eat_." Her mother pointed at the bowl and scowled at her, "You haven't been eating lately. Don't you know that's not good for your health?"

"Mom, I'm really not hungry. I ate last night. I'll eat when I'm hungry." Clare replied and swiftly turned around, ready to walk away.

"Young lady, _eat_." Helen demanded and got up from her seat to reach her arm, "Just take three bites—that's all I'm asking for."

Clare glanced at her mother with tired eyes; the bags forming under them seem to be getting puffier each day. Her stomach began to release a growl, and she _knew_ that she had to eat then.

She let out a lazy sigh and walked to the table. The oatmeal seemed unappetizing. It's was a gray color and the scent of it was divine, but the food appeared as a blob ready to devour her. Its texture was pasty, once she poked at it with her spoon.

She turned to her right side and found her mother glaring at her, waiting for her to take a bite.

She involuntarily shoved a spoonful in her jaw and once her taste buds touched it, her tongue twitched in disgust. She dropped the spoon and grabbed a napkin instead, to spit it out.

"_Clare_." Her mother scolded, "The kids Darcy sees would be lucky enough to eat this. Honestly, you take things for granted."

"I told you, mom, I'm not hungry…" Clare sighed and drank the glass of milk in front of her.

"Fine, if you won't eat my food, then I'm taking you with me to run some errands. Seriously, you need to get out more. Aren't you tired of lying in bed all day?" Helen briefly reproached, and softly pinched her cheek, "Come on, take a shower and get dressed."

"Mom, I really don't-"

"You're going and that's final." Helen said in a stern voice.

"Alright." Clare gave in and began to walk her way to go upstairs.

.

.

The car ride was silent and Helen took every ten seconds to glance back at Clare, who was laying her head against the window. Her daughter's eyes were missing the bluish glow that shined with happiness, and remained a cheerless gray. She didn't shift in her seat like she used to, but sat there quietly with a small frown that never vanished at any moment.

"Do you miss your father?" Her mother asked quietly, as her hands concentrated on the wheel.

Clare shook her head, "I talked to dad on Wednesday. He wanted to take me out to eat since I'm on break."

"Well, that's nice of him. Why didn't you go?" Helen reached a stop at the red light and looked at Clare.

"I wasn't hungry." Clare blankly said.

Helen gave a wry smile, "Did you teachers leave you a lot of homework?"

"I finished it." Clare replied in a monotone voice, she wrinkled her nose for a little while and began to pick at the bottom of her dress.

Helen continued to drive and she saw the market up ahead, she was about make a turn. And for a quick second, she felt horrible and inconsiderate once she remembered why her daughter was so upset. The tears she cried the past nights have reminded her, but with her own divorce, she forgot. But now, a last question lingered in her mind and she bravely asked, "You're still not over your break-up with Eli?"

Clare quickly stiffened at the mentioning of his name and an even sadder aura began to invade her presence.

"Mom, we're here." Clare suddenly said, ignoring the question.

Helen had already parked and she watched as Clare bolted out of the car door, with an energy she hadn't seen in a while.

Helen grabbed her keys and purse and stepped out. She saw how Clare was already to the front of the entrance and was already grabbing a cart. Helen walked quickly to her side, "Clare, wait!"

Clare grabbed a paper from a small rack near the door, which showed all the discounts and specials, "Look mom, ten-percent off the milk."

Helen stared at Clare with confusedness and played along, "Hm. Yes, I see. We should get two cartons; you drank the last cup at home."

Clare gave her mother a faint smile—too much forced effort put into it—and grabbed a hold of the cart.

They reached the produce section and Clare picked some apples as her mother grew closer to her, "Clare, you can talk to me, you know. It's okay. Things like this always happen. You'll look back at this one day and laugh."

Clare ignored her and shook her head, "Mom, just please, don't talk about it, okay? I'm fine; I'm really, _really_ fine."

"If you say so," Her mother replied, but she knew that she was lying. And that alone worried her more than it should have.

.

As they grabbed some bread, Helen walked up to her, and continued to say, "You've been through this before—with KC—remember? Look what happened, you moved on. You'll move on soon enough." She placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Mom stop it, please." Clare whispered.

.

Helen grabbed a can of tuna as Clare watched, "It's been a week, Clare. The hardest part is practically over."

Clare gripped her fingers on the handle bar of the cart and said, "We should go get some cheese. We ran out."

.

Once Clare was looking at a packet of some chocolate-chip cookies, Helen smiled at her, "We could bake some home-made ones at home instead. Baking always distracted me whenever I was upset, when I was younger."

"These seem good. Baking is too much work." Clare vigorously sighed as she stared at the pack of cookies, and tossed them into the cart.

.

They passed by the dairy section and Clare looked at the cartons of milks checking the expiration dates on them.

"He wasn't such a good boy, anyways. You could do better." Helen mumbled.

Clare turned around and gave her a sad glare, "I'm asking nicely, mom. Please, _drop it_."

.

By the time they were paying for everything, Helen looked at Clare who was carelessly flipping through some pages of a magazine.

She was reading an article on the new Fortnight movie ready to come out soon, Helen walked over to her and was about to suggest on buying the magazine for her, but Clare snapped her head back up and looked at her mother harshly, "_Please_,_don't_. For the last time, I'm fine! _Alright_!"

Everyone around turned around to their direction and glanced at Clare. Some men and women gave her harsh scowls, ridiculing her public outburst. The cashier shook her head, and Helen's jaw dropped slightly, "I was going to ask if you wanted to buy it." She gestured at the magazine.

Clare held in her breath and glanced around to see everyone's eyes on her. She blushed and the need for air seemed impossible at a time like this. She couldn't breathe, she felt suffocated, and the sensation brought a pool of tears upon her eyes. Clare sighed and rubbed her eyelids, to prevent her from crying.

"I-I'm sorry." She whispered.

Her mother grabbed the bags from the cashier and grabbed Clare's arm, "Come on."

People still gave dirty glances at Clare and Helen raised her stare towards them, "What are you looking at?"

They shook at her shrill tone and controlling firmness that they went back to minding their own business.

Once they reached the car, Clare didn't release the tears that were forming back in the market. Helen didn't say anything this time and started her car, with Clare sitting in the backseat instead of the front this time.

She saw Clare curled up, with her arms crossed with no emotion.

At times like these, she decided to turn on the radio, and switch it to a station that the "cool" kids listened to.

Helen knew that Clare would be sick of listening to her Christian gospel music.

Once the tunes blared through the speakers, Helen frowned at the music being played. It was obnoxious to her ears and the singer sounded as if somebody died. The lyrics seemed meaningless and practically garbage—nonetheless, she started to tap her fingers to it and turned around to glance at Clare.

Clare paused in recognition to the song. Green eyes and a pink smirk appeared in her mind. All the memories washed over her and the moment of nostalgia had taken a sour turn. It was certainly not her day—_Eli this, Eli that_—the world seemed against her.

_I've seen your pattern_

_And I can match it_

_Just trace the lines on your paisley jacket._

Her mother saw from her rearview window that Clare had begun to cry. Tears were flowing down her face and her nose was tainted red.

Until the last verse, Clare had tried her best to silently sob and rubbed the tears away from her eyes with her small arms.

They finally reached home and Clare bolted upstairs, Helen took in all the groceries inside and set them at the table. Once she had done that, she walked upstairs and knocked on Clare's door.

She didn't answer and Helen entered, seeing that the door wasn't locked.

It was a painful sight for a mother to encounter: a daughter bawling her eyes out under the covers with a lost look—she seemed too helpless and heartbroken.

Helen walked to her side and didn't say a word; she enveloped Clare in a hug and raked her fingers through Clare's hair, "It'll be alright."

Clare sniffled and held tighter onto her, "W-when?"

She kissed her daughter's cheek and sighed, "With time it will. I don't know when, though. But, you're strong."

Monday would be a new beginning in her life.


End file.
